Open books, hidden lives
by Novacaine soul
Summary: It's not her fault, not really. It's not Piper's fault that, to the world, she is a mean, stupid, shallow Aphrodite kid when she's probably the most perceptive of the Seven and the only one that can read every single person on this bloody ship like it's a stupid open book.


**Dark character study. OOC alert. Hated and flames expected, but not welcomed. Contrary to popular belief, I do not hate Piper. She's probably one of my favorite characters. Good traits of any character are suppressed on purpose.**

**DISCLAIMER: I wish I owned this wonderful characters.**

* * *

It's not her fault, not really. It's not Piper's fault that, to the world, she is a bitchy, stupid, shallow Aphrodite kid when she's probably the most perceptive of the Seven and the only one that can read every single person on this goddamned ship like it's a fucking open book.

* * *

Let's start with Leo, shall we? The most hyperactive and funny and happy kid you'll ever meet and, in general, he is lovable.

But he's actually not, because everyone thinks he's just fucking dumb —he is— and no one, not even you, his oldest friend, cares about him. It seems like he's cursed (maybe he is) with all those people avoiding him and running away from him all these years and he thinks —he knows— everything is his fault and he is a punishment and a nuisance and he hates himself.

(You agree with him.)

And, at night, when the sky is dark and everyone is being tortured by nightmares, and Leo thinks no one is awake —but you are, you always are— you hear him and all he does is _crycrycry_ and, in general, you perceive him with the color of the ashes (all that was left from his unfortunate mother.)

And all he ever did was kill his Mama —his fault, only his fault (such an idiot) and no one else's— and build the Argo II and destroy New Rome (he can't even control his own powers. So pathetic) and you know he's just a tool —maybe you don't want it and you're being cruel, but it's the truth— something the rest of you will use to climb to the top.

(But he will be left on the ground after everyone has stepped over him.)

* * *

And then there's Jason —your boyfriend, alright— and he is (one of) the praetor(s) of Camp Jupiter, a strong leader and a great friend.

But he's actually not —he tries to deceive everyone, but he can' fool you—. He's not a hero, not a friend and definitely not a leader (he just wants to be left alone, is that too much to ask?) He has all that pressure and such a huge task on his shoulders and he just wants to be normal. He's scared —idiot, leaders don't fear anything— and he's just a little kid who tries to be everything he's not.

(You think he's so naïve.)

And, at night, when the sky is dark and everyone is being tortured by nightmares, and Jason thinks no one is awake —but you are, you always are— you feel him and all he does is _fallfallfall_ —such an irony— and in general, you perceive him with the colors of his camp (always so loyal —not even him believes that lie—.)

And he seems like a good leader —he's not, he doesn't even know who he is— and a great friend —friends don't backstab each other (and look how Reyna ended)— and a brave praetor —and that one almost makes you laugh— and all he ever was is a traitor (gods, he doesn't even know where he belongs) and a confused boy with an identity crisis.

(But you know better than to trust him.)

* * *

Later, we have Frank. Son of Mars and (now) praetor of Camp Jupiter. He's nice, he's adorable in a way that makes you want to coo and he is, as a whole, the good kind of hero.

But he's actually not. In reality, he's a sick experiment of nature, more god than normal half-bloods and a curse running down his veins —but it's actually written on his dying heart—. He comes from so many places, and he tries to fit in all of them, when he can't even fit in his own skin. (Maybe that's why he's constantly changing shapes.) But he's cursed, bound to die at any moment, and no matter how much he tries to avoid the topic, he'll blow up into pieces soon.

(You don't want to be around when that happens.)

And, at night, when the sky is dark and everyone is being tortured by nightmares, and Frank thinks no one is awake —but you are, you always are— you sense him and all he does is _diediedie_ and, in general, you perceive him with the color of fire (his constant, fatal, _lethal_ companion.)

And he is slowly dying because that stick can't last forever but he still tries to save his friends and, consequently, the world —a pointless task; the world is already fucked up and his friends probably won't live through this— and doesn't mention his upcoming death (why does everyone on this stupid ship want to be a damn hero?) and tries to hide the fact that yes, his friends may not return after war, but his grave is already dug in Greek land. But, well, he's a praetor now and his mission is to save the world, even if it means getting killed in the process.

(But you know he'll be the first one to fall.)

* * *

After him, we have Nico. Ambassador of Pluto, kid of Hades, and one of the heroes of the Battle of Manhattan. The only person able of going through hell alone and living to save the world.

But he's actually not, because, yes, he might have done all those thing but he isn't a hero, because heroes are supposed to be _there_, always ready to fight against the newest danger and he couldn't be in one place for more than a few days —you're not being mean, just stating facts—. Besides, he might have survived Tartarus, but he's so fucked up in the mind (more than he was before), and even a blind person could see that he'd rather die than keep on living this tortuous life that never seems to end.

(You can see through his mask.)

And, at night, when the sky is dark and everyone is being tortured by nightmares, and Nico thinks no one is awake —but you are, you always are— you pity him and all he does is _cutcutcut_ and, in general, you perceive him with the color of the blood (running down his arms every night.)

And you laugh at the stories people tell about him, because he's clearly not a hero and you know why he runs away from everything and everyone —running away is the only good thing he's good at— because all he does is bring pain to those that love him (good thing you don't) and kill people —how ironic— and destroy things and _he can't even face his own sexuality, for Olympus' sake_. Because, yes, you know (it's love, and that's your thing, of course you know) and if he can't even bring himself to face what and how he is, then he's clearly not a hero— heroes are supposed to be brave and face their fears.

(But he'll always remain a coward.)

* * *

Then there's our biggest, mightiest, bravest hero and Savior of Olympus, Percy Jackson. Loyal to an extent where it becomes dangerous, as sweet as his mother's cookies and compassionate like no other.

But he's actually not, because you're cruelly good at detecting lies and, fuck, the kid is practically a walking one (and you wonder how people don't hate him for all the things he's hiding.) Because it's painfully obvious that he's trying to be the hero with a dark past, a tortured soul and inner goodness —but he's just a guy with a slut for a mother and a drunkard dick for a step father (and let's not forget the fucked up childhood)— and it seems like a strange miracle that he hasn't died yet, considering the amount of people that want him dead.

(You might be one of them.)

And, at night, when the sky is dark and everyone is being tortured by nightmares, and Percy thinks no one is awake —but you are, you always are—, you listen to him and all he does is _screamscreamscream_ and, in general, you perceive him with the color of the bottom of the ocean (as dark as his soul.)

And he's not a savior, but a monster —you saw him—, a cold-blooded murderer that will kill anything that stands in his path without giving it a second thought (Jason almost was one of his many victims) and maybe he isn't better than those who are killed by his sword. And when the monster he has become leaves aside the little humanity he has left, the loyalty everyone praises —another lie— is nothing but a mere myth.

(But you learnt to stay away from his reach.)

* * *

And here comes the first girl, Annabeth. As wise as her mother, as beautiful as Aphrodite and as brave and independent as Artemis. In other words, a goddess.

But she's actually not, because she's certainly not beautiful —cute, maybe, if looked at when she isn't sweating after practice or covered with blood—, only brave from time to time —her hubris gets in the way of her bravery—, and she has moments when her stupidity rivals Percy's. And about being independent, well, that must be the best joke you've ever heard. She's been clinging to someone since the day she was born. First, it was her father (until her got married and forgot about her), then Thalia, the daughter of Zeus, later it was Luke —he betrayed her, what and awful way of leaving, don't you think?— and then it was Thalia again (and she left not only once, but twice) and, finally, the great Percy Jackson came into the picture.

(You know he will leave her too.)

And, at night, when the sky is dark and everyone is being tortured by nightmares, and Annabeth thinks no one is awake —but you are, you always are— you notice her and all she does is _waitwaitwait_ and, in general, you perceive her with the blank color of the fading smoke (as forgettable as her.)

And she is in fact forgettable, because who remembers a daughter of Athena when she's surrounded by such heroes —you wouldn't, that's for sure—, when she has let down even her own mother (they only person that still, somewhat, believed in her), when she's such a _failure_? Because she has nothing —she is nothing— and she just wants something permanent —hon, permanency doesn't exist— and all she does is sit there and wait —for what, you're not sure (but it's okay, she doesn't know it either)—. Maybe for the end of the war, her life, or her madness —but in the end, they're all the same thing— and she's going to be sucked into oblivion —forgotten, like she always was— until there's nothing left.

(But no one remembers after they leave.)

* * *

Now we have adorable, little Hazel. The youngest, most innocent and cutest of the Seven, with her big round eyes and her sweet smile that makes everyone trust her immediately.

But she's actually not, because that's just one of her many tricks —and does she have tricks up her sleeve— to gain people's trust, to make herself feel accepted (poor little Hazel, she knows she doesn't belong here) and to manipulate the rest of the crew (didn't see that coming, did you? She's a better actress than she seems.) Because, who would expect something like that from our innocent, lost Hazel?

(You are the only one who expected it.)

And, at night, when the sky is dark and everyone is being tortured by nightmares, and Hazel thinks no one is awake —but you are, you always are— you see her and she does is _smilesmilesmile_ and, in general, you perceive her with the color of History (past, mysterious and barely remembered.)

And she looks at everything with something in her eyes —some may think it's fear, but sweetheart, you should be the ones fearing her— and the way she acts means she's not telling everything (she's just waiting to learn all your weaknesses and use them to her advantage) and she smiles like she's in possession of something that brings her to the top but also takes her apart —something inside her thirsts for revenge. But shh. She doesn't know it yet—. And she wants revenge on the gods, wants to avenge her lost life and her past mother (or was it the other way around?) because they took everything away from her.

(But revenge will destroy her, rather than everything else.)

* * *

Finally, you make you appearance, my dear Piper. The useless one, the one that could have stayed home, the stupid boyfriend-stealer.

But you're actually not, because you defeated Khione and brought Festus back to life —or whatever you wanted to call that—, you can make everyone kneel at your feet with a simple word and, well, let's not talk about your smile, the real reason why Jason left Reyna just to be with you —but he was never hers in the first place—. And you're not stupid, you are the only one that can see other people's thoughts without even looking at them (you know the people on this ship better than they know themselves) and if you decide to join Gaea, the world will be doomed.

(You always win.)

And, at night, when the sky is dark and everyone is being tortured by nightmares, and you know no one is awake —except you, you always are— you set yourself free and all you do is _laughlaughlaugh_ and, in general, you perceive yourself with the color of the victory (always by your side.)

And you are the best of them, the only essential one —you stopped a fight between the two most powerful demigods of the century— and you convinced Boreas to let you go (that fool) and Gaea wants you to be her sacrifice —you know it will get you killed, darling, but Gaea is like you: she only likes the best things— and you rule the most powerful cabin of Camp. And, as you think about what awaits you, you smirk— they should be grateful you didn't unite forces with Gaea, even though it could save your life. Because if you did, there would be no hope for the gods.

(But the whole world is in your hands again.)


End file.
